


The Prince

by MinaAndChao



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Dark!Harry, M/M, Warning: Bad Politics ahead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaAndChao/pseuds/MinaAndChao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or How Severus Snape Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Revolution</p><p>A fairly dark Harry story</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic dabbles in politics by necessity. My lack of any clue as to how they work probably shines through pretty well. Also, the Drarry is slight and only kind of half there. So, if you're reading for that, I don't want to disappoint you.
> 
> Also, I put a warning for gore, but it was probably most unnecessary.

In hindsight, Severus Snape really should have known. They'd had hints that this outcome was possible since day one, but none of them had picked up on it.

To be fair, however, those hints were subtle. Buried under a mask of expectations met and hidden behind sheets of glass just thick enough to obscure and evade.

When Harry Potter had entered Hogwarts at eleven years old, eyes wide and more than slightly awed, there hadn't been a doubt that that shade was inherited from Lily. The vivid green was as uncommon as it was stunning.

But, Lily Evan's eyes had not been seen in over a decade. Even the most important and cherished of memories fade with time, and the sad truth was that the more one played through a memory, the more details were lost or changed. Even pensived memories fade and wane the longer they remain in the basin.

And so no one, except maybe Dumbledore, who wasn't around to confirm or deny, had noticed that the those eyes were not the emerald of his mother, but instead the neon green of the Killing Curse.

If they'd noticed and understood, then maybe they could have prevented the whirlwind of change that had occurred.

However, perhaps it was for the best. When all was said and done, this might have been the best thing for the Wizarding World. And if Severus had a Master again, at least it wasn't one that required he scrape his knees in a kneel or bow to sweet, empty promises and candy.

Beating himself over for it wasn't helpful, anyway. That was something he'd learned in the past few years. With a sigh like wind through cloth, Severus closed his eyes on the dark room and turned his head, fighting and losing against a smile when he felt soft, messy black hair rub against his cheek.

Next to him, Harry Potter shifted slightly but did not wake.

~*~

The day Severus Snape first began to suspect that his idea of the world around him did not reflect truth was a night deep into what many of the students referred to as their 'eighth-year'. It had become increasingly common to find students wandering the corridors at all sorts of hours, their sleep disturbed by the things they had seen in their short but intense bout of war. At first the staff had been content to leave them be, and allow them space to recover. However, the Headmistress had requested that they start to reinforce the curfew rules again, in the hopes that the disciplinary atmosphere of being a student would help them to recover.

Personally, Severus didn't have much hope for the plan, and didn't believe Minerva did either. But very few of the students seemed willing to seek help for their troubles, and they had no legal right to make it mandatory. And of course, being the Gryffindor she was, she had to do _something_.

What it meant for him was that he had increased night-time shifts so that he could force scarred children-soldiers to do something that could well have been detrimental to them. Obviously, he wasn't thrilled with the idea, but he would do as he was told. He had plenty of experience in that field.

Speaking of...

Deep in the shadows of the library, Severus spotted Harry Potter bent over a book, brow furrowed slightly with concentration. It was a rare surprise to see the boy (he ignored the part of him that pointed out that the figure before him was definitely a man, in mind and body). While he had no doubt that Potter spent many of his evenings wandering freely, he could be a slippery as a snake when it pleased him, and unless he was distracted by something else, it was nearly impossible to spot him.

Severus later suspected that in this particular instance, Harry had _wanted_ to be caught, but he never asked.

Though he was loathe to admit it, Severus had not been actively searching for Potter. Just the opposite, in fact. Just seeing him brought back memories of furious duels during dark, painful nights, and burning pain surrounded by the rotting wooden walls of his least favourite place. He had to deal with it enough during his waking hours, thank you very much. Despite his best efforts, he'd not been able to kick Potter out of his Potions class. The brat must have picked up more than he'd realized from reading Severus' old textbook. Which was beyond irritating, obviously. Clearly, he was capable of the subject, had he simply applied himself.

Despite the fact that Severus had made no attempted to be subtle, Potter didn't seem to notice him. The book he was reading was held up closer to his face than was healthy, do to the low levels of light, and the cover and his glasses conspired to block his view of the boy's eyes.

Once he was close enough, Severus smacked a hand down on the table, hoping to startle a guilty reaction out of him. What he got was something closer to fear, as Potter dropped the book and stood with the sort of built in trigger of someone who had seen war and come out the other side. His hand was around his wand before Severus could react to the sudden movements, and met Potter's eyes out of startled instinct more than true intention.

He immediately wished he hadn't. The expression in those eyes, wide and edged with panic, were far too similar to the expression Severus had seen as Potter had collect his tears as his heart beat a frantic, dying tempo.

Severus' fingers ached with a need to touch the long, jagged scars marring his neck. He resisted the impulse.

After a heartbeat, the boy let out a sigh and stuffed his wand back into his pocket. His expression calmed into something serene, rather than the guilt Severus had been hoping for. Feeling absurdly slighted, the professor reached down and snatched up the book Potter had dropped from the table, barely managing to make out the title in the dark of the library. _The Prince_. It crossed his mind to wonder how exactly he'd been able to read this at all, but the thought was quickly swallowed up by a mixture of curiosity and condescension at the book.

“Thinking about joining politics, Potter?” He drawled, voice laced with poison. The boy would be eaten alive if he tried that, and Severus wasn't sure he wanted to stop him of making a fool of himself. If nothing else, it would be extremely amusing to watch him get shut down.

He didn't expect to get a rueful chuckle in response. “Oh, no. Obviously not. Can you imagine?” Despite himself, Severus was becoming used to the informal tone Potter had taken to using towards students and authority figures alike. It had been extremely irritating, at first, but of all the things Potter could do to annoy him, it was probably the least offensive. In fact, it could even be satisfying, so long as it was aimed at an appropriate target. “I was just trying to understand politics a bit better, I suppose. Besides, I need a hobby now that I'm out of Dark Lords to kill.”

“If you are that bored, I assure you there are plenty more Dark Wizards you could be tracking down, had you not decided to opt out of Auror Training.” It took more effort than he'd thought to keep his tone derisive rather than curious. No one knew why Potter had decided, at the last minute no less, not to run off into the Auror Program. Instead he'd come back for his final year, along with Weasley, who had made no effort to conceal that he'd really only applied to share the experience with his 'best mate'. He'd liked the idea of being an Auror, yes, but didn't want to go through it alone.

A few rumors about Potter's reasoning had flow around, but none with real substance. Trelawney, during one of the staff meetings she was forced to attend by Minerva, suggested that he'd returned to 'seek true love in the arms of his one and only', meaning Ginerva Weasley. However, while Potter had been nothing but friendly with her, they remained separate romantically.

Shrugging, Potter tilted his head slightly at his professor, and Severus wondered if all anyone had needed to do was ask, and if anyone had truly bothered. Probably Granger, actually, but no doubt in a way that conveyed nothing but disapproval and frustration. “True enough, but it wouldn't be a terribly stable career for me, would it?” Severus continued to stare, and the boy gave a frustrated little frown. “Shakebolt is great, but he's not directly in charge anymore. And really, the Aurors are too tied to the Ministry for my tastes. All it would take is for public opinion to sway – and we both know that happens plenty – and then they could be pinned down by someone who wants to keep their nice, cushy job, regardless of what damage they do to keep it.” With another shrug, Potter pushed in his chair and leaned slightly against the table, gaze focused down at the grain. “If everyone wasn't so damn fickle it wouldn't be a problem, but they just accept whatever _The Daily Prophet_ without thinking about it.”

Viciously amused at Potter's dilemma, Snape allowed himself a smirk. “And thus your ill-advised foray into philosophy.” The boy nodded, but didn't rise to the bait, instead choosing to continue frowning at the tabletop. Eager to shatter whatever illusions Potter still had, Severus gave an elaborate shrug, expression not changing. “The public will never truly be on your side, just as they never will be any one's side. Even if you to invent a way to make all of their lives perfect and effortless, a good portion of them will still despise and be against you.” He paused to sneer at him, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose they don't know what's best for them.”

Rather than look rebellious or disturbed or anything Severus had expected of him, Potter simply looked...thoughtful. Like he was absorbing this perspective like a plant would water, making it an intrinsic part of him. He could see slight movements of the boy's mouth, like he was mouthing back part of it, but the motions were minute and the shadows deep, so he couldn't read his lips to known the exact part. Finally the boy looked back at his professor, eyes strangely luminous from the reflected light. “Thank you. That helps.”

“So glad to be of assistance.” Severus drawled, making an impatient, sharp hand movement towards the front of the library. “Now, if you would be so kind as to go back to your tower, rather than to pester me with your presence?”

He got that same rueful chuckle in response. “Yes, sir.” Potter responded, but his tone was light rather than respectful. He moved to take the book from Severus, but the larger man placed it down onto the table, out of his reach.

Expression scornful, Severus snorted. “I highly doubt that this book is checked out in your name, considering the current time. As such, it will remain here.” He met the boy's eyes, trying to intimidate him into submission, some part of him hoping the eerie effect of the current lighting would protect him from the gaze's normal effect.

He was wrong. It was, in fact, worse.

The boy's expression didn't change at all, remaining calm and pleasant. “Of course.” He responded, giving a tiny nod of acquiescence. Turning out his heel, he made his way towards the exit.

Following him with his gaze to make sure he was indeed leaving, Severus snapped, “Twenty points from Gryffindor.” Potter didn't react. When he finally made his way through the doors, the man gave a sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, feeling the normal Potter-related-headache coming on. When he moved his hand, he noticed that _The Prince_ was missing.

That _brat_. How had he managed that?

A few months later, Severus would wonder if he'd been the one to push Harry over the edge into the force he became. In the end, he decided to believe that if he hadn't, something or someone else would have, possibly in a less controlled way. It was a paltry comfort, but it was better than believing otherwise.

~*~

Over the next week or so, a few subtle changes occurred between the 'Golden Trio', as they were ridiculously called. At first it had only been Potter, who had been slightly quieter and more thoughtful for a time. The attitude switch quickly spread to Granger and Weasley, who at first seemed frustrated, though not at their friend. But the anger quickly morphed into something like steel, first with the girl and then with the red-head.

Their changes seemed to bring something out in Potter. He became... not more confident – he'd always had plenty of that – but more secure. In control. His posture slipped into something calmer and almost loose, and his eyes took on the glint of someone who had a secret. While neither of those were unusual for the boy – he'd had the same look in his fifth year with that ridiculous little club, for instance – it had never been this pronounced.

Once in a while, Severus would catch sight of the boy out of the corner of his eye and for a moment he would be reminded of someone else. His first thought had been James Potter, obviously, but that didn't hold up. The elder Potter had never had this sort of true ease during his school days, instead wielding the bravado of a bully.

Whatever was going on with them, it was clearly contagious. By the end of the month, the Weasley girl and Longbottom had joined their strange little group, and Lovegood was drawn in soon after. All of them took on that same sturdy quality of Granger and Weasley, and each increased Potter's serenity and poise.

After that, it seemed like the disease had run it's course – none of the other students seemed to be drawn in, even if they were beginning to treat Potter with more... respect was the wrong word. Deference? Perhaps.

One night shortly after they had settled into the strange new pattern, Severus was once again wandering the halls, this time in the dungeons near the Slytherin Common Room. Although Minerva had started off the year with a stern warning that any 'punishments' given to Slytherin students would be visited back on them twice fold, there was no doubt they were still being pursued. The fact that none of his snakes were coming to him meant one of a few things: that they didn't trust him after his switch to the Light (unlikely, since the Light had won – it would come of as a smart move instead), that they didn't trust him to protect them despite the fact that he'd told them otherwise (fairly likely, since none in his house were the sort to take him at his word), or they thought there was nothing he could do against them (the most likely of all).

His shift had been rather quiet thus far, and therefore it was something of a surprise when he heard the sound of a scuffle down one of the side halls. Severus made his way towards it, footsteps quick but silent.

There was no way he could have expected what he'd found.

A fifth year Gryffindor was pinned against the stone wall, feet flailing a good five inches from the floor. One thick arm kept him up, while the other held the Fifth Year's wand arm over his head, twisted so that he couldn't retaliate.

That wouldn't have been so surprising, had it not been Ronald Weasley pinning him.

Behind the red-head, who was staring into his victim's eyes with a serious, disappointed expression, stood Potter. He was shaking his head like a parent who had caught their child misbehaving – a gesture Severus thought he might have picked up from Dumbledore. “Oh, Neil,” He sighed, and the Fifth Year's eyes widened in shock. Apparently he didn't expect Potter to know his name. “This isn't the way to go about things. You're making it worse, really.”

“Making what worse?” Neil snapped, voice strained. He kicked slightly to the left of Potter, and after following the movement, Severus spotted one of his Fourth Years, half hidden by shadow and sporting a black eye. “They're the ones doing awful stuff. You weren't here! You didn't see.”

Sighing, Potter gave a little cough, and Weasley raised the boy another inch. He squeaked in pain as a hand came up to pat the red-head on the back. “Thanks.” Weasley gave a nod in response. “Well, no. But I'm hardly short on people to tell me, am I?” His smile was wane and slightly sarcastic, and Neil blinked at it, looking vaguely shocked. Severus could sympathize. “But I do know that Malcolm here didn't do anything to you. Right, Malcom?” The Slytherin looked equally shocked that Potter could name him, but nodded quickly. “So there's no need attack him. All you're doing is making him feel hunted, which means that the next morally questionable figure to arise would have followers that much easier.”

Grumbling, Neil continued to kick and flail, though with less strength than before. “As if he wouldn't anyway.” He snarled.

A low sigh escaped Potter, and he patted Weasley on the back again, this time a sharp movement between his shoulder blades. The larger boy backed off almost immediately, rolling his eyes and letting the Fifth Year drop to the ground with a thud. Without bothering to look at the younger Gryffindor, he made his way back to stand beside the Slytherin boy, who took a step closer for protection.

While Neil was still winded, Potter knelled down in front of him, eyes serious. “I've tried being nice. So instead I'm just going to put this bluntly. Remember how at the beginning of the year, the Headmistress said that anyone caught harassing Slytherins would get it back twice over?” Neil nodded reluctantly. “Well, if I catch you, I rest assured _I will_ ,” the tone was icier than anything Severus had ever heard the boy use before, including towards him and quite a few Death Eaters. “Then I will make you suffer ten times over. Understand?” The Gryffindor blinked at him. “I said do you understand?”

At the suddenly sharper tone, Neil nodded, looking like he wanted to swallow his tongue. “Good.” Potter replied, giving a smile that was slow and calm and edged with razors.

Suddenly, Severus realized who Potter reminded him of.

Tom Riddle.

Without waiting to see what would happen next, Severus spun on his heel and fled down the hall, heart pounding.

How was that possible?

~*~

Severus wasn't entirely sure why he didn't go straight to Minerva. He supposed part of him wasn't sure how much she knew about the Horocruxs. Another part worried that it would be taken as a continuation of his campaign against the boy.

But despite the fact that this was exactly how the Dark Lord had gained followers, and despite the panic that was threatening to well up in him, Severus couldn't bringing himself to take away this one real protection that Potter provided. If being some sort of vigilante was helping his Slytherins, then Severus was loathe to stop him.

So instead he kept watching.

Now that he'd figured out the connection, it was easy to see where Harry Potter resembled Tom Riddle. They had the same way of holding themselves, like they knew what they wanted and were going to get it, no matter what obstacles stood in their way.

But soon after, Severus started to notice other things. He knew from experience that the Dark Lord had needed to be the center of his followers' worlds at all times. When ever their minds and interests had started to stray, he'd found a way to draw them back in.

Potter, on the other hand, was the opposite. Despite what he'd thought of the boy when he was younger, it was clear now that, while he directed them, he wanted them to have their own agendas, often pushing them to work with other people instead of spending their time around him, usually with a fond laugh.

That was another thing. Severus wasn't sure he'd ever heard the boy truly laugh before. Sardonic or uncomfortable chuckles, yes, but not the happy sounds that came from him now. He had always assumed it would be the loud, cheerful gaffing of his father, or maybe the bell-like tones of his mother. Instead it was a light, breathy noise, almost more air than voice.

To his surprise, Severus found he liked it. So did most of the school – heads would turn whenever that laughter rang out. It was...charming.

Actually, charming probably summed up the resemblance rather well. Charming and seemingly unstoppable.

Those differences were what kept him from interfering when he noticed Potter meet up with Draco Malfoy one night. He didn't catch most of their conversation, but he was there in time to see them come to some sort of agreement, punctuated when Potter raised his hand to shake, an ironic twist to his lips.

Draco took it, and they gave one, serious jerk, before Potter cracked a grin, and Draco rolled his eyes but seemed to fighting a smile himself.

They parted ways, and Severus disappeared before they could spot him, curious as to what he'd just watched.

He didn't have to wait long.

The next morning, Draco entered the Great Hall for breakfast late. This wasn't unusual – he'd always had a tendency towards sleeping in, and then taking the time to primp no matter how late it would make him. What was unusual was the way he paused dramatically, like the cover of a romance novel. Equally strange was the way Potter's head jumped up to meet his gaze, as though pulled up by an invisible string connecting them.

Oh, no.

Pause complete, Draco began striding towards the Gryffindor table, eyes locked on Potter, just wide enough to look overcome with emotion without appearing to lose his poise. In response, the shorter boy sprang up, one hand coming up and reaching out ever so slightly towards the blonde, as if by it's own accord.

They weren't...

Draco took the stretched out hand in his own, using it to drag Potter closer until their lips met.

They were.

The Great Hall exploded in whispers. Confused cries came from all tables, including that of the staff. Some voices were tinged with outrage, some with hope. It was no surprise that those were separated by house.

After letting the chaos reign for exactly fifteen seconds, Weasley stood up, face set in a scowl. “Oi! Shut up, the lot of you! What do you care – it's not your problem, is it?” He cast a rueful glance at the two boys, who had separated enough to look back. “And you two. I have to deal with watching you snog enough already. Can you leave it alone during meals, at least? You're putting me off my food.”

“Like that's possible.” Potter responded easily, tugging Draco down to sit next to him. “But fine, if you insist.”

Leaning slightly onto the boy next to him, Draco rolled his eyes. “As if I haven't had to watch you and Hermione just as often, Ron.” Not many other people would have caught the blink Weasley gave at his name. Most of those who did probably wrote it off as remaining dislike for the boy after their years of rivalry. Severus knew it was surprise – he'd never heard his name from that mouth before.

What was Potter up to?

~*~

It wasn't a problem to assign Potter a detention, despite the fact that he hadn't given the boy one so far this year. He then proceeded to spend the rest of the afternoon in a sort of restless anticipation, wondering just how he was going to go about opening him up to his questions.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried.

Come 7 PM, Potter knocked once before entering and seating himself calmly at the desk across from Severus' desk, completely forgoing the group of cauldron's the man had set up in case he needed an out. “So what do you know?” He asked bluntly, lacing his fingers and tilting his head slightly to the left.

“Excuse me?” Snape drawled, both startled at the blunt opening and staling for time as he wondered exactly what he inform the boy he knew.

Rolling his eyes, Potter gave him a wry smile. “Come now, Professor. We both know you're suspicious of me. You've noticed me acting differently, and I know you saw that scene with Neil and Malcolm. Frankly, I'd be surprised if you haven't seen more than that. So tell me, what do you make of it all?”

There was something disarming about the boy's honesty. While it made part of Severus all the more wary, a greater portion of him just thought it intriguing. “I also saw you make the deal with Mr. Malfoy.” It was smarter to give up that fact than to give his opinion at the moment.

Dark eyebrows shot up, and Potter sat up a bit straighter. “Really? I hadn't realized at all. You are something.” He paused, clearly giving himself time to fully explore the fact. “So you're aware Draco and I aren't star-crossed lovers.” The last bit was playfully drawled with all the drama of the morning's performance. The dry look he got in response on made the boy grin.

“Draco, is it?”

Shrugging, the boy made a helpless sort of motion. “Well, I am snogging the guy in public. It seems polite to use his first name.”

Pursing his lips slightly, Severus leaned forward. “And what do you hope to achieve with this little charade?”

Green eyes met black, expression slipping into something more serious. “I wanted to make a public statement that I supported Slytherins, even the ones who had been forced to do terrible things in Voldemort's name. As irritating as it is, the fact that it's me does mean a lot. People who were on the fence will hopefully move on, and those who, like Neil, feel they have the right to do something harmful will probably be more reluctant to actually take 'justice' into their own hands.” He gave a half shrug. “Also, it gives me ground to stand on, should I be caught by the wrong person. Defending my boyfriend's honour and all that.” He slipped back into a grin, this one impish. “Besides, he's not a bad kisser.”

Severus rolled his eyes, ignoring the way Potter smirked in reply, before he leaned forward as well, fingers once again tangled in his lap. “Now, I haven't forgotten my question, Professor. What do you think about this?”

“I think you're an idiot who doesn't know what he's getting into.” Severus shot out, eyes narrowed. “I think you could well be dangerous in your delusions. I think you have far too much power at your disposal for anyone's good, least of all your own.” Potter didn't flinch at all at any of his words. In fact, he looked like he was taking them to heart. “Just what is it that you think you're doing?”

Something seemed to burn behind Potter's eyes. It was the same thing he'd seen in the boy's eyes in a pensived memory of his defeat of The Dark Lord. “We're going to change the way the Wizarding World is run. Completely. Start it over from the beginning if we have to. Which I think we will.” He leaned farther forward, and Severus had to fight the urge to jerk back. “Our society is fundamentally broken. A couple weeks ago I showed Hermione a couple of current law books I managed to dig up in the library – the more in depth stuff for people who want to have a career in the field. She'd read some of the general overview ones, though not a lot since Third Year. I've never seen her so angry over pages in a book. It's all designed to keep the power in a certain section, and to let them do whatever they want to keep in. The public has next to no power.” His grin took on a vicious quality, and again Severus thought of Riddle. Only the 'we' rather than 'I' calmed him. “So we're going to take it. We'll rip it away from them and give it to the people who deserve it, who earn it. And if they abuse it we'll just take it away again. In a sad, round-about sort of way, Voldemort had something right. You can't change anything in Wizarding Britain without taking over the system completely. Good thing he was an utter loon – had he been reasonable about anything he might have had a chance. Or, at least, not alienated himself into being the obvious bad guy.”

Apparently finished with his little rant, Potter leaned back into the chair, expression back into the sort of serenity he'd recently perfected. “So, yes. We're dangerous. We have no idea what we're getting into. But that doesn't really matter. There is nothing in our way that will stop us.”

The final sentence rang out like a bell, clear and sharp.

Severus believed him. Honest to Merlin believed _in_ him.

It was terrifying, but also a bit exhilarating.

“Why are you telling me this? You said already that there are people you plan to hide your intentions from. Why am I not on that list?”

Blinking in surprise that Severus thought was probably fake, Potter gave a warm smile. For once, the expression looked real rather than punctuating a point. “Because you are unique, Professor. You've been on both sides in a way no one else in the entire war has. You have insight that is truly invaluable. So I was hoping that if I asked you some questions you could give me your thoughts.”

Staring at the boy with something approaching shock, Severus frowned. “And what makes you think I'll answer you? Or that I'll tell you the truth?”

The boy blinked like the thought had never crossed his mind. “Because we're doing something you've wanted since you were a child. We're erasing the prejudices that plagued you and protecting those who currently are in the same position you were then. Why would you not?” He answered, tone matter-of-fact.

And damn the boy if he wasn't right.

Fighting off a low groan, Severus closed his eyes. “What kinds of questions?”

Potter smiled again, the expression like a rising sun. Severus ignored it. “Things like... how the other houses think of Slytherin, in general and currently. The typical methods of shutting down would-be revolutions. How the Death Eaters were run – mostly the stuff that didn't work. That sort of thing. Of course, you'll be free to ask any questions back. I'll be 100 percent honest with you.”

For a long moment, Severus stared at him. “Fine. But you also have a detention to serve.” He glanced dryly at the cauldrons, and the boy gave a wry look, but made his way over to them just the same. “I stop answering the moment you are finished.”

“That's not a very good incentive for me to be efficient.” Potter pointed out, even as he began filling the first cauldron with water. “But fair enough. The houses?”

Wondering exactly what he'd gotten himself into, Severus opened his mouth and began.

~*~

They quickly settled into a routine. About once a week, Severus would assign Potter a detention. Usually the boy did something to earn it – like talking to Granger in class or messing up a potion – but once a while Severus set one for a sarcastic look or for tiny imperfections in the boy's ingredient preparation. Just to keep him on his toes.

Meanwhile, he continued to be disgustingly public with his 'love' for Draco. The two of them delighted in being as obnoxious as possible, coming up with increasingly ridiculous pet names and holding hands whenever possible.

For some reason, it was beyond irritating. More so than it deserved, actually – Potter's prediction that the charade would lower outbursts towards his Slytherins seemed to be truthful. The boy had pointed out a few ambush spots he'd found, but Severus had yet to find a single incident. It was possible he was lying about the violence in the first place, but Potter was nothing if not _sincere_.

Of course, the Gryffindor's threats towards anyone he caught probably helped just as much, if not more.

Currently, Potter was rubbing away the scorch marks from a particularly disastrous Third Year class, momentarily quiet as he gave the desk his full attention. Severus took the chance to ask something that had been bothering him since their first session.

“How far are you willing to go?”

Without looking up, Potter shrugged. “As far as we need to.”

Rolling his eyes at the predictable response, Severus slashed at a wrong answer on the quizzes he was grading. “Say, for the sake of argument, that you required a piece of information from a captured enemy. How far would you be willing to go to get it?”

Potter paused, eyes darting over towards Severus but never fully landing on him. “Well, that would depend on our resources. If we have some sort of truth serum, we'll use that. But I assume you mean if we'd be able to use... force?” The professor didn't dignify this with a response, and Potter turned his eyes back to the marks. “I said we'd do anything.” He paused again. “Well, I doubt Hermione would. It's not really her area. Luna either, but mostly because I'm not sure she'd be any good at it. Or she'd be perfect – it's hard to tell with her. Ron and Neville could probably both do it if need be, and I think Ginny could too – that girl is vicious when she wants to be.” He paused again, this one slightly longer. “And I would too. If I had to.”

Despite the fact that Severus had been planning on tell the boy that he was being blind, and that he had no idea what he was saying, he just nodded. Something in Potter's tone told him that he knew _exactly_ what he was saying.

Not for the first time, Severus wondered just what Potter had faced on his journey for the Horcruxes.

There was a long silence, before he asked, “And what's your next step?”

Tilting his head, Harry smiled down at the table. “We find a base of operation. A place that could handle however many people we might need as well as be in a prime location.”

“You sound like you have some place in mind.”

“I do.”

“I would like to see it.”

Finally, green eyes met his. “Okay.”  
~*~

A few nights later, Severus was woken from a light doze by a knock on his chamber door. While he had never told Potter where it was, he wasn't surprised to see the boy was standing outside, hands clasped calmly behind his back.

“You said you wanted to see.”

Severus nodded, and Potter gave him that true smile before slipping down the hall. Had anyone else been following, they would have found it difficult to keep track of them. Despite the fact that he'd known for a long while now that the boy had some skill in stealth, it was an entirely different thing to see it in action. It wasn't as perfect as he'd suspected, for one – a sharp reminder of how new the boy was to the game. Functional was a good description, as it lacked the grace of movement Severus had developed over the years. Enthusiastic somehow also fit.

It was... strangely cute. Which was a thought Severus pushed away before it could fully form.

Within a few minutes, they had reached the third floor bathroom. Eyebrows rising, he eyed Potter, whose attention was focused solely onto one of the faucets. He hissed out something, and the ceramic and stone slid apart to reveal a gaping black hole.

The boy shot him a vicious, victorious grin before sliding down.

Cute was not the word for that expression, which was a problem he would have to deal with later.

The trip down was disgusting and dark, and Severus thought there had to be a trick to it – no way Salazar Slytherin slid down a slimy pipe every time he wanted to visit his chamber – and the walk to the actual room itself was no less rancid. While most of the room was still in good shape, the rotten (and sadly unsalvageable) corpse of the basilisk would definitely have to go.

“You know,” The boy mused. “When I was here in Second Year, the basilisk came out of the statue's mouth.”

There was a quick pause as Severus pondered this. “You think there could be something else back there?”

Shooting him a half-grin, the boy made his way over to the giant bust of Slytherin, climbing up one of the shoulders. “If it's big enough for a fifty foot snake, it's probably big enough for a room or two.”

Fair enough. Severus followed after, albeit at a much slower pace. “I must insist you go in first. Brave Gryffindor and all that.”

There was a quick series of hisses, and then chuckling while the mouth opened. “Fine with me. But, you know, everyone who follows me recklessly into danger calls me Harry.” Without waiting for a response, Potter slipped into the mouth and disappeared into the inky blackness.

“I'm not following you recklessly. That's why you're going first.” Potter's head reappeared, eyebrow arched sardonically. “Oh, fine. Harry it is.” He got another one of those happy smiles in response.

As it turned out, there were two rooms behind the face. One was a study, filled with preserved, ancient sheets of parchment. The other was empty.

Severus wasn't surprised when Potter – sorry, _Harry_ \- somehow managed to get the Vanishing Cabinet in there. He was surprised when the boy asked him if he was comfortable with using it, and even more so when he responded 'yes'.

~*~

Graduation was looming, and Severus felt himself growing increasingly agitated. For one, he still wasn't sure what to do about Harry. While he had no intentions of getting in his way, obviously, his place within the boy's group was unclear. Was he simply some sort of adviser? Someone who had caught the boy in the act, and then had been fed bits of information to keep him satisfied? He was also uncertain as to what he planned to do once the year ended – was he going to remain separate from Harry, just a couple hundred feet below him and ignoring the fact? Or was he to join him in the Chamber, spending his life in the newly added rooms, going along with the boy's plans?

It should have been a simple matter to clear up – just ask Harry what his plan was. Several times now, Severus had planned to find a time to corner him. But, every time he tried to corner the boy, Draco would inevitably be with him, kissing him or wrapping his arms around Harry like he owned him...

Ridiculous. It was absolutely ridiculous. And Severus desperately need to just get over himself.

As always, this was easier said than done.

Eventually, a week before the 'eight years' were set to leave, Harry was the one to confront him.

He entered Severus' office without warning, wand in hand. He didn't take the seat in front of his desk, instead choosing to stand, staring down at Severus. “I have no desire to do this.” He said, voice flat and serious and eyes shuttered. “But if you pose a danger to our group I will.”

Dark eyes glared up at him. “What the hell are you talking about.”

“You're hesitating.” The boy answered immediately, meeting his gaze. He didn't seem to be blinking at all, and Severus resisted the urge to shudder. The color of them was strangely unnerving in a way Lily's had never been. “If you plan to defect, then you have a choice. Either I can _obliviate_ you, or we duel.” There was a strange sort of certainty behind the last word. Harry didn't think he would lose, it seemed. Severus agreed.

For a moment, Severus stared at him, not sure where to begin. Finally he shook his head and snorted. “Quick to turn on me, weren't you?”

Mouth twisting, Harry tilted his head to the right. “Actually, no. You've been acting strangely for weeks now. I should have been in here far sooner. You could have told any number of people by this point.” His grip on his wand – the holy one, not the Elder Wand, Severus noted curiously – tightened. “This is nearly half a month overdue.”

“Strangely? What are you talking about, Potter?”

Something flashed behind Harry's eyes at his last name, but it was gone before Severus could identify it. “Every time you so much as look at me, you look frustrated and angry. You've grown increasingly agitated over the past couple of months, and you haven't spoken to me in that time. Clearly, you're having second thoughts. And I can't let you ruin this – it's too important.” Harry straightened his back and gave him a level look, and in the first time in over half a year, Severus was reminded of James Potter. But this wasn't the James of Hogwarts, the bully who tormented him. It was the James of the Order, who faced down Voldemort to give him wife and child more time to escape.

This was a man prepared to do something that could very well destroy him for the good of a higher purpose.

It felt like something in Severus shifted at that, but he had no idea what. Instead he looked down at his pale, spidery hands, which gripped the edge of his desk. “I suppose denying any such behavior would not benefit me.” There was a stony silence, and he nodded in response. “Instead I'll assure you that my behavior comes from a personal motivation, and does not jeopardize your revolution, nor does it mean I'm 'defecting'.” He paused, reviewing what he just said. “Which would imply that I'm part of it in the first place.”

“Of course you are.” Harry replied, blinking at him.

Severus threw him a dry look. “I don't think that was ever officially established.”

Biting his bottom lip, the bo- no, that wasn't right. The man sad down, gaze narrowed. “What else would you be? I've told you... more than anyone else, I think. You were the first to see the Chamber. I've been discussing plans with you for months now. What did you think that meant?”

“That didn't mean I was part of the group, so much as I was someone who had information you needed, and who you repaid in kind.” Severus shot back.

Harry stared at him for a long moment, mouth falling open. “If that was the case, it wouldn't have gone on for all this time! And that doesn't include all the times we've gone into the Chamber.” He groaned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Slytherins, honestly! I thought you guys were supposed to be all about the subtle, but no, if I don't spell things out you take it the worst possible way. You and Draco are going to be the death of me.” With his hand over his eyes, Harry missed the frown the blonde's name invoked. “Yes, you are part of the revolution. Our – not my, thank you very much – revolution. Which probably needs a name once we're out in the world, but I digress.” He peeked up over his hands. “But this isn't the point! What personal reason could you have for acting so weird towards me?”

Gaze going cool, Severus scowled. “It. Is. Personal.”

Something about Harry's posture shifted, and he looked... less confident, somehow. Withdrawn, almost. “Okay. Sorry. Was... I guess...” He closed his mouth shut with a click, and Severus stared at him, shocked. He hadn't heard the other man be anything but well spoken in nearly a year now. Strange. “Did you need anything else spelled out for you, while I'm here? Maybe a diagram or two?”

Rolling his eyes, Severus leaned back in his chair. “I was curious as to what you expected I do after this year.”

Shrugging slightly, Harry mirrored his movements. “I want you to do whatever you want.”

“And if that includes going with you.”

Harry beamed.

The next night, Headmistress McGonagall found Severus' resignation on her desk.

~*~

Graduation day passed without a problem, and soon the former students were milling around in the entrance way, getting congratulated by family or speaking excitedly to one another. Severus watched as Harry dodged his way through the crowd. His progress was impeded by the numerous students who stopped him to pat him on the back or shake his hand. Several of them whispered something in his ear or passed him pieces of paper, and Severus wondered how many of them were just exchanging addresses or joking around versus how many were within Harry's circle of influence. While he was aware of the other man's main supporters, there were quite a few that he could pull favours from, should that become necessary.

Eventually he made it to his ultimate goal – Draco. Thankfully Severus' scowl at the sight was no different that the one he wore at the unnecessary ceremony and pomp that Graduation required, and so no one noticed his falling mood. The Malfoy Heir kissed his boyfriend (and was it still just part of their scheme, or had it become more than that? Surely they had made their point by now.) and linked their arms together before returning to the conversation with his parents. Neither looked surprised or perturbed by the display. How aware were they of the situation? Come to think of it, had Lucius been involved in obtaining the Vanishing Cabinet?

After a few minutes of chatting, Harry pressed a kiss to the corner of Draco's mouth and shot him a grin. The look had just an edge of dopy, and his eyes sparked like they were lit by a spell. It was very different from the smile the other man usually showed him. That one was slow and soft and warm like a fire during a winter night.

The idea that Draco got his own smile made his stomach twist.

This day needed to end quickly. Severus thought of the malt whiskey he had hidden away in his quarters. It would be a waste of space to pack it, anyway...

' _Screw it_ ' he thought, and slipped out the door, not noticing the sharp green eyes that followed.

~*~

It turned out that no one would be living under Hogwarts. “Of course not.” Harry had told him, looking confused by the idea. “Everyone can't just disappear from the public eye, can we? I wanted to use it for missions and the like, not for everyday living. That probably isn't healthy, anyway.”

And so Severus returned to his home on Spinner's End. He spent much of his free time relaxing – he'd earned it, after all he'd done for the war. Both wars. Hogwarts payed handsomely, as well. Not many jobs required looking after teenagers 24-7 for 9 months at a time, after all, and so money wasn't really an issue. And he could support himself easily on his potions, if he felt like it.

Two weeks into his pseudo-vacation, his Floo flared green, and Harry came through, tripping over his own feet in the process. He only barely managed to catch himself before winding up on the floor, and scowled at Severus, who was watching with amusement. “You have been part of this world for how long now?”

“Shut up.” Harry snapped, flopping onto the couch next to him. “Shall we talk about our first mission, or mock my ability to much up any and all forms for Magical Transportation?”

Eying him, Severus smirked. “I'm capable of both.”

The younger man groaned and rolled his eyes. “You're a riot. Truly. Now, do you have any suggestions? Any ideas you want to throw into the pile?” Harry made an expansive, sarcastic motion with his hands, narrowly avoiding hitting Severus.

“I still only have a vague plan as to what you're planning.” He informed him dryly, dodging Harry's arms as they moved back into place. He had taken to wearing Muggle short sleeved shirts, and it was more skin than he was used to seeing from him.

Shifting slightly so he was facing Severus, the shorter man frowned. “I mean, the plan itself isn't terribly complex. We get to Gringotts, we destroy the train system as much we can – and maybe set one of the dragons in there free if we think we can find our way back okay – plant some evidence, cast _Morsmordre_ and get out. Easy.”

Severus sent him a dry look. “Only you could call breaking into a destroying Gringotts 'easy', Harry. And I'm not sure as to what you're attempting to accomplish. Any damage you do won't last more than a week.”

Chuckling, he shrugged. “I think we can get more than a week. And the point isn't permanent damage, anyway. Even a day's interruption in people's abilities to get their gold will cause a panic. And we have done something like this before, minus most of the actual destruction part, you know. Hermione, Ron and I.” Severus stared at him. “The cup was in Bellatrix's vault. How else did you think we got it?”

“I assumed you somehow convinced the Goblins to work with you.” Severus returned, eyebrow quirked. Harry shot him a bland look, and he gave an arched hand movement that acted like a shrug. “You do have a talent for talking people into doing what you want.”

With a slightly vicious smile, Harry shot him a sideways look. “Like you?” Chuckling, he turned his gaze to the fire. “Well, I kind of did. But not really.”

Severus blinked at him. “Care to explain that mess of a sentence?”

And so Harry told him about getting to Bellatrix's vault, and then what happened in there, and then the flight on the dragon after, and then about getting back to Hogwarts, and by the time they stopped it was far later than either had expected.

Harry probably could have gone back through the Floo to his flat he shared with Weasely, but it seemed polite to invite him to say the night anyway. It was a surprise when he excepted, citing that he didn't want to wake the red-head. That raised the problem that Severus had not been expecting over-night company, and his guest room was still covered in boxes from Hogwarts.

For one stupid, heart-stopping moment, Severus imagined asking him to join him in bed. And in the span of a heart beat, he saw two worlds – one where Harry accepted, and there was heat and skin and sparks, and another where he rejected him and left and Severus had given up so much of his life for another heart-break.

Instead he gave Harry a pillow and a blanket and told him he could sleep on the couch if he wanted it, before retreating to his bedroom.

The disappointed look in the smaller man's vivid, strange eyes had to have been something he imagined.

~*~

As it was, Gringotts went perfectly, and gold was frozen for just shy of two weeks. And it did indeed cause a panic- the Ministry was struggling to control itself while the public lashed out. Shaklebolt was immediately under fire, obviously, as were the Aurors. How was it, people were asking, that the Death Eaters were able to be so organized as to get into and damage _Gringotts_? And so the Wizengamot was set to begin a high level investigation of the department – probably not so much to actually look for corruption and problems as it was to calm the public and give a show of progress.

Which made them the obvious next target.

Out of the fifty members, fifteen were targeted over one week. Five were attacked in their homes, five out in public, and five in their offices. Each time they cast _Morsmordre_ , and one time they left behind a Death Eater mask.

Of those, seven were killed, and one was taken prisoner.

That was how Severus found himself in the Chamber of Secrets, standing outside the door to the room Harry had converted into a sort of make-shift jail cell, listening to the man's voice calmly ask for information on current Heads of the different Departments, and the man he had kidnapped whimpered out answer after answer.

Finally there was a whispered spell and the sound of moisture hitting the hard floor and a long silence. Then Harry emerged, expression flat and blood splattered onto his hands and face, dripping down his glasses. He stared at Severus, looking calm and strong and in control, except for the tightness around his eyes.

Severus could not help himself as he wrapped the younger man in one arm, nodding to Draco as he passed. The blonde glanced between the blood on Harry's face and the open door with a nod, before shooting him a smirk and waggling his eyebrows.

It was tempting to flick him off, but Severus decided he was above that. Barely.

As it turned out that when supported by someone else, Harry could keep his balance just fine through the Floo. Severus half-shoved him onto the couch and then knelled down in front of him, taking the man's glasses and cleaning them off with his sleeve. Once they were relatively clean, he made to hand them back, but Harry just stared, so Severus slipped them on for him, trying not to think about how intimate the action was.

“I'm doing the right think. We're doing the right thing.” Harry eventually said, voice flat.

Nodding, Severus got up and moved so he was sitting next to the smaller man, who leaned into him without seeming aware of what he was doing. “You are.”

With a twist that looked painful, Harry tilted his head up to look at Severus. “Then why does it feel different?”

“Because it is. This isn't war. This is revolution.”

“Is this what it felt like when you were a Death Eater?” Harry asked.

After a moment, Severus shook his head. “No. That wasn't revolution either. That was... animalistic violence.”

There was a long silence, as they both became lost in their own minds, before Harry finally spoke. “There's something wrong with me, I think. Before Voldemort killed the Horocrux in me, I wouldn't have been able to do this. Now I've killed and tortured someone for information to cause anarchy.” His voice was almost serene, somehow. Like the idea didn't actually bother him.

Severus shifted slightly, somewhat uncomfortable to hear one of his own fears voiced so calmly. His movement jarred Harry, who fell sideways, head resting in Severus' lap. He didn't move away, instead continuing to stare up with those unnerving eyes. “Perhaps. Does that change anything?”

“No. It doesn't.” Slowly, Harry closed his eyes, still not moving. “Tomorrow we leave the corpse in Diagon Alley. Preferably in the evening – the least amount of children will be out then. Scaring them wouldn't be helpful to us.”

“Yes, sir.” Severus replied. With a nod, Harry accepted the title.

~*~

Shortly after, Ministry officials began to resign en masse. Most of them out of fear, or pressure from their families (Ginny and Ron, along with their mother, managed to convince Mr. Weasley to quit, thankfully.). Others, especially many of Heads of various departments, were blackmailed into giving up their power.

Of those who remained, many of them were very outspoken against the 'Death Eaters'. All of them were killed. Severus began to get a better idea of how the group dynamics worked. Those who used their power to abuse those weaker than themselves went to Hermione. Ron and Neville were good for anyone involved in Dark dealings, or anti-Muggle Born. Ginny took anyone who was just generally nasty – she was scarily inventive, often coming up with karmic punishments. Luna could take one any of the above, but was usually better for the actual planning than the kill itself. Everyone else went to Draco, Severus or Harry. There were a surprisingly low number of those.

When Umbridge stayed in power and tried to organize, Severus tried to be the one to get her. However, he was beaten to it. One day, in the middle of the day shift, Disillusionment and Floating Charms on her corpse were canceled, and fell down onto the atrium. On her back was carved the word 'monster'.

As Harry had said months before, Ginny Weasley was indeed vicious.

That was when Phase Two of the operation began. They began speaking to the public as themselves, making themselves known as leaders. They helped clean up after attacks, lending (usually ultimately unhelpful) aid to the Ministry. In short, they put themselves in the public eye as the people to go to for stability.

Everything was going according to plan

~*~

Even after all these months, Severus still wasn't done unpacking. In the beginning there had been plenty of free time for him to at least get started, but he had delayed, partly because he had been waiting for word from Harry, and partly simple procrastination.

In the mean time, Harry has stayed over multiple times, always sleeping on the couch. Severus has found he liked the sight of the smaller man sprawled on his couch. Part of it was that it was _his_ in a way that the often forgotten guest room wasn't. But it was also nice to see him so unguarded and vulnerable. With the calm, in control manner Harry has gotten down to a science, being able to watch him looking anything other than regal was such an intimate act it almost felt obscene.

But it had gotten beyond the point of reason, and it as high time he got fully settled anyway. He has about a week of free time. After Umbridge, the remaining members of the Ministry were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and it was better to let them make up their own shoes waiting to drop – they'd scare themselves into running with no effort on their part.

And so Severus found himself in the guest room, idly sorting through boxes. Since he'd only had a few days to pack, he'd done it mostly by magic, so there was a lot of organizing to do.

In this particular box, there was an old newspaper, one of those unnecessarily large books, a faded old t-shirt from before he'd graduated Hogwarts – in short, various items that had been shoved into his closet and forgotten. Useless.

Or so he thought. But as he picked up the book, something fell out. It was a photo, he realized, feeling his heart lodge itself in his throat. He must have been using it as a bookmark at some point...

Grabbing it from the ground and flipping it over, Severus stared. It was of him and Lily, shortly before the beginning of Fifth Year. They were both sitting at one of the benches from the park, reading textbooks with covers on them. After a few moments, Lily looked up and smiled at the camera, the sun light catching her eyes just right to make them shine.

The way the photo had been pressed in the book and tucked away had kept it pristine, and there was a level of detail he hadn't seen for years. Her hair was a little darker than he remembered it, actually – probably run into by nearly two decades of Weasley Red. The eyes were also strange, somehow. The colour of them was just as bright as he remembered, but with just a hint more blue than he expected to see, for some reason. They weren't really different, but he couldn't help but feel somehow uneasy about them.

Something settled strangely in his stomach when he realized what was wrong. Severus was mentally comparing them to Harry, and they didn't match up.

For so long, he had based the way he acted towards the younger man on his eye colour. Both he and others had told him since he was so very young how that was the only physical trait he had inherited from his mother. The fact that it was false felt... dishonest. Wrong.

Flipping it over and over in his hands, Severus wondered what he was going to do with this information. Did it change anything?

Slowly, he opened the book and stuck the photo back inside, before sticking it with the rest of the texts he had amassed.

Because once upon a time it would have changed everything. Now it didn't matter at all.

~*~

A week and a half later, they were all putting the finishing touches on the items they'd need for what would hopefully be the last part of their plan. It was some rather clever magic, actually, the result of an alliance between Granger, Lovegood and Draco.

Part of him hoped that they would never work together again, for the good of the world. Or at least the good of his mental safety. From the way Draco and Granger were glaring at each other as they worked, it was probably a fair assumption.

Severus was having trouble concentrating, however. Despite his resolve upon putting that photo away, he found himself almost stuck on the knowledge. But it wasn't the sort of paradigm shift it could have been. Instead he was just... curious.

If Harry Potter's eyes weren't from his mother, than how did he get them? Another relative? A mixing of genes?

And so he kept sneaking glances over at the smaller man, who was dodging between groups, lending a hand when needed and offering words of encouragement. It was a bit like watching a model of the solar system – Harry was the sun, and all the members of the group tended to follow him somehow, whether they were aware of it or not. Their posture would re-orient itself to point towards him, or eyes would jump up to watch him on an almost regimented basis.

No doubt Severus was doing it too. And he found he didn't mind.

But the way he was watching was more observant than the half-minded way the rest of the group was following him, and thus Severus seemed to be the only one who noticed the way Harry had started to sway ever so slightly on his feet, or the way he would blink for just a tad too long.

How much had he slept in the past two weeks? In the past few months?

...Was that why he kept staying with Severus? And if so, what did that mean?

Once their props – and it felt appropriate to call them that – were finished, Harry send the rest of his group to their respective homes, telling the Weasley boy that he was just going to finish something up and don't bother to wait up, okay? The red head blushed and murmured quietly about staying with Granger over night, and Harry grinned at him, thumped him hard on the back and made a joke about about-time, and practically pushed him through the Floo.

Finally, they were alone, and Harry spun to look at him, head tilted slightly. There was a grace to the movement that he'd picked up somewhere along the way. The mannerism was somehow regal. It suited him more with each passing mission. “Did you need something, Severus?”

“Yes.” Harry kept that posture, waiting for elaboration. He got none. Finally, he nodded. “Your place then?”

Returning the nod, Severus made his way through the Floo, and then caught Harry when he stumbled through after, and dumped him onto the couch. The younger man gave him that winter fire-place smile in return. “So what did you want, then?”

Staring down at him with crossed arms, Severus arched an eyebrow. “I would like for you to be rested before tomorrow.”

With a chuckle, Harry reached up and grabbed his sleeve, maneuvering him until he was on the couch next to him. “Figures you would notice.” He murmured, something soft just below the surface of his voice. Severus mentally added it to the puzzle as his eyes raked over the younger man's face. Harry gave him a sidelong glance before shutting his eyes with a sigh. “I can't relax anywhere else, though.” The words were barely more than a breath, and Severus didn't think he'd meant to say them.

It was hugely encouraging to know that, for all the power and mannerisms and drive, Harry Potter was still human.

Almost of it's own volition, his hand reached up to land on Harry's far shoulder, thumb kneading into the place where his neck met his shoulder. The younger man made a soft noise that thrummed through Severus before practically going limp against him.

There was a quick shuffle as they both tried to shift to get more comfortable, and only managed to get at cross purposes, before settling into something that worked for both. During all that time, Severus never stopped moving his thumb.

It took nearly an hour before Harry's breathing softened into sleep, and slowed the movement in increments, not wanting to wake him. Finally he stopped, watching the gentle rise and fall of the younger man's chest and observing how his shirt bunched up at the bottom, revealing a glimpse of creamy hips and stomach.

As softly as he could, Severus carded his hand through the short, dark tresses, enjoying the feel of the strands on the pads of his fingers. After a minute, he withdrew, feeling foolish. What was he, a lovestruck teenager?

But when he tried to move away, Harry murmured softly and grabbed out for him, brow furrowing in his sleep. Severus allowed himself to be dragged back down, torn between some sort of bubbling elation and exasperation. Sure, the not-yet-twenty year old (and that was not good to think about, not at all) could sleep just fine on the couch, but he had gotten past the age where that was remotely comfortable. And tomorrow he couldn't afford to be sore if he could prevent it.

There really wasn't any helping it. Gently as he could, he coaxed Harry into getting up, trying to wake him as little as possible. He half carried the smaller man passed the still half-covered guest room (damn his procrastination) and into the master bedroom, settling him onto the side he didn't use.

Once he was settled onto his own side, he could hear Harry's slow breathing and feel the heat radiating off of him.

This was going to be a long night.

~*~

After their success so far, it really wasn't a surprise when their plan went off without any problems. The Death Eater cloaks they charmed to look and act like real opponents worked wonderfully, and they were able to appear in the nick of time, in the style of true Gryffindor Heroics. It was absolutely ridiculous, especially when Neville allowed himself to be 'hit' while facing three of them, taking down all three in one 'final' heroic shot.

And of course the Wizarding Public ate it up.

Now the apple of their eyes, and with the government in shambles, it was stupidly, stupidly easy to take charge, delegating the power to those they knew they could trust (or, at least keep an eye on, in the case of Lucius).

During the scrambling to recover, it was child's play for Granger to get into the legal files and change whatever she wanted, or for the Weasleys to choose to hunt down Dark Artifacts as they pleased. There were no guard dogs for any of them.

Despite what he'd said that faithful night, Harry set himself up as a sort of interim (or so he said) Minister. He allowed the slowly re-forming Departments enough room to establish themselves, but kept them on a tight enough leash that they couldn't start up anything he didn't agree with.

In less than a year, Harry Potter had set up the sort of benevolent dictatorship that Tom Riddle could have only dreamed of.

“I expected it to take a lot longer.” He told Severus one night with a smooth shrug. “That's why I wanted the Chamber – I figured sooner or later we would have to go after Hogwarts in some fashion.”

Severus blinked at him, not really surprised that the idea had been there. “I thought as much.”

Shrugging, Harry butted him with his shoulder. “Of course you did,” He snarked back, rolling his eyes. “Severus Snape knows everything.” There was just a hint of something bitter behind the words, and Severus eyed him.

“You sound doubtful of this well-publicized fact.”

Eying him, Harry played with the handle of his now-empty mug. “I have contrary evidence.”

Arching his eyebrow in return, Severus used his superior height to tower over him. “Oh?”

“Yeah. You've been wrong about me pretty often.”

With a snort, Severus smirked. “I believe I was normally right about you doing something you weren't supposed to be.”

After a pause to think about it, Harry waved the words away. “Sometimes, but others you just blamed stuff other people were doing on me.” He sent Severus a reproachful look, which he responded to with a bland look. “Besides, I wasn't talking about that.”

“Then what were you referring to?” He sneered just to be extra challenging, amused at the way the smaller man bristled. He would never be that open in public. It was thrilling knowledge.

Which then paled in comparison to Harry's response, as he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Severus' mouth.

Almost as soon as he made contact, Harry retreated, eyes wide and... not quite nervous, but thrown. The fire light caught the orbs just right, and the colour seemed almost alive.

Oh.

It dawned on Severus that the eyes were the exact shade of the Killing Curse.

And, strangely enough, that made them all the more stunning.

Harry was starting to shift away, looking like he was about to make his retreat. Before he could, Severus slipped a hand around to cradle the back of his head and pulled him up into a kiss of his own. And this one was not a simple press of lips.

For a long moment, Harry blinked past his shoulder, eyes slightly distant. When he finally focused onto Severus, his eyes were sharp and darkened with lust. “Bed. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Severus replied, and followed as Harry led them to the bedroom.

He had the best angle of his arse from behind him, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written by Chao for Mina, for the reasons of much love and also NaNo. Glad you liked it!


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